


The Way You Are

by PreseaMoon



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27792187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreseaMoon/pseuds/PreseaMoon
Summary: Oswald first catches sight of him at a party organized by the Nightrays.
Relationships: Glen Bakserville | Oswald Baskerville & Jack Vessalius
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	The Way You Are

Oswald first catches sight of him at a party organized by the Nightrays. It’s a small event that Oswald has no real reason to attend, all things considered. The Baskervilles are here as a courtesy more than anything, and Oswald because his master’s sense of humor is both irresponsible and juvenile. 

There are many things Oswald would rather be doing, but since his master commanded it, here he is. Off to the side, observing the masses, most of whom he already knows, most of whom are unworthy of note.

Jack catches his eye early into the night. Although, there’s no reason for him to stand out in any particular way to Oswald. He’s as put together as the event dictates, and from his looks and the way he carries himself it’s apparent he’s part of the Vessalius household. He’s beautiful, young, ordinary. His long golden braid follows after him like a lure in a river as he seamlessly drifts from one group to another, belonging in all of them and none of them.

As Oswald idly watches over the party from the second level the tail of that unfamiliar braid puts its hook in him, and he follows it to a face that both is and isn’t familiar. There are traces of Viscount Vessalius there, in the shape of the eyes, the nose, the mouth, but the features are softer in every way. Delicate, but not so much so as to detract from the handsome quality he possesses.

As far as Oswald knows, Viscount Vessalius has two acknowledged sons, and this man is neither of them. He’s not any other Vessalius relative Oswald can name, either. Someone new, then. The numerous eyes that find their way to him again and again could be due to his looks or his status within the family or because he’s unfamiliar. It’s impossible to tell which.

For a moment, Oswald wonders if he’s seen him before.

Immediately he comes to the conclusion he hasn’t.

If he had shared a space with this man before he would have taken notice of him, just as he is now. That’s the sort of presence the man has, your attention can’t help but be drawn to him. It only makes it stranger that Oswald has no idea who he might be.

Oswald’s job is to keep watch, to observe, so that’s what he does. If his gaze tugs back to that man more than necessary he neglects to acknowledge it as significant. At first. 

But the Vessalius boy is a distortion unto himself, summoning the attention of all but slipping through their fingers as though he was never there at all.

He’s curious in an abstract, undefinable way, and Oswald is aware of the notion’s absurdity as soon as he thinks it.

It is true, though.

Oswald can tell even from this distance.

And he stares at him, as though he will unravel the components of his existence from afar.

Of course, he can’t, but he’s given something in the form of the young man sensing Oswald’s eyes on him. For someone who must be accustomed to stares, something about Oswald’s unseen gaze rankles him. However, he smoothes over the growing discomfort, giving away nothing as he casually scans the room for the source.

Oswald’s lips quirk the tiniest bit. The young man might have a bit more vigilance in him than most nobles his age.

Oswald decides he needs to make him less of an unknown factor. Some inexplicable tension inside him won’t ease until he does.

*

“Oh, so Jack’s caught your eye, has he? I can’t say I’m surprised. That boy seems to be catching everyone’s fancy. Not that I can blame anyone” The woman’s sigh is resigned, disappointed but unsurprised there’s yet another rival for the young man’s attention.

Oswald barely had to say anything for the woman to pinpoint who he meant. It’s not startling, but something like it. Wariness. Confirmation that Oswald’s instincts were correct to latch on to him.

If she assumes he’s another suitor, he’ll take it. “Who is he, exactly?”

He’s informed the man is Viscount Vessalius’s third son, and that he’s only been making appearances at social gatherings the last few weeks.

When Oswald says he wasn’t aware Viscount Vessalius had a third son he receives a conspiratorial laugh. “Rumor has it the boy’s been quite ill most of his life. He hasn’t been allowed out for his own good. How lucky for us, then, that he appears to have made a full recovery.”

If that were the case there would be no question of where the boy has been in the first place or who he is. The Vessalius aren’t the most prestigious household, but neither are they beneath notice. They hold just enough power that they’re doubtless thirsty for more.

It turns out Jack Vessalius is the Viscount’s bastard who grew up in the middle of nowhere.

He’s born, he lives, he disappears at thirteen, and then shows up in Sablier around four years ago, ingratiating himself with the nobility until he’s found himself accepted into his father’s household.

The situation itself is not the most unusual or even uncommon, but in this case, Oswald is unable to discern what led to Jack being an acknowledged son. Just, suddenly, Jack Vessalius was there one day, as if he’d been there all along, belonged amongst them, and nothing was strange about it.

Oswald cannot pick up any consistent trail or record of him. No one can tell him anything of substance about Jack Vessalious. It’s all a superficial shroud of an identity. He’s handsome. He’s charming. He’s brilliant. He’s a great conversationalist. He’s skilled with a multitude of instruments. He’s great at fencing. 

Many describe him as a little odd, but no one is capable of elaborating on why that is. It’s simply a vague certainty, like Oswald’s own discomfort with him.

The consensus is that, while Jack Vessalius is likeable enough, there just happens to be something off about him too.

*

There are many things “off” about Jack Vessalius.

Very little fazes him. Compliments and insults might as well be the same thing, with the way he laughs off both when he doesn’t outright ignore them. He accepts whatever is directed his way with a smile that isn’t sincere, but is never wholly fake either. Somehow, he balances on the precipice of something and nothing, and his intentions evaporate before they can take form.

Oswald can’t get a read on him. Learning more about him doesn’t change this. Neither does watching him.

Jack Vessalius remains unquantifiable in a way no man—no human should be.

Among the numerous people Oswald has met, dealt with, and observed, he’s never encountered someone quite like Jack Vessalius, which feels… incongruous. Nothing about Jack or his history is exceptional. 

He’s an abused runaway who lived on the street for an undetermined amount of time.

He’s a viscount’s bastard son, who’s been taken into the household but doesn’t seem to hunger for his father’s attention or his family’s affection.

He’s a rags to riches story who neither shies away from nor basks in his newfound status. He mingles amongst them like he belongs, but manages to stick out like a single mismatched thread.

Jack Vessalius is not the first or last to have a set of circumstances like this, yet something about him...

Oswald can’t put a name to it, and this doesn’t change as the weeks pass. He tries and tries, but all he can ever settle on is the same vague discomfort. Whenever he catches sight of him, Oswald feels like he can’t let him out of his sight. He’s not sure why. It’s not like he thinks the man is dangerous, exactly. If he’s plotting something, it’s certainly not against the Baskervilles.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t put a stop to it when he’s part of Arthur Barma’s retinue on that day. 

Or maybe it’s because he’s curious.

*

It turns out that Jack Vessalius’s ulterior motive from the very beginning was a meeting with Lacie. For the last eight years that is what he’s been working towards. That’s why he worked to join the Vessalius household and that’s why he has been making certain friends among the nobility. It was all so he could eventually place himself in the dark crosshair that is the Baskerville mansion.

In hindsight, Oswald can see how the dots connect, the way he insinuated himself into the Barma’s social circle to eventually end up playing a foreign instrument in their mansion.

It’s… a peculiar and subtle chain of events. Made all the stranger by the fact that the moment he sees Lacie he throws every pretense aside to embrace her. That one action exposes his hidden machinations, but obfuscates him in other, more frustrating ways.

He recognizes that Oswald has been watching him, though he doesn’t seem to realize it himself.

He doesn’t balk the tiniest bit at the suggestion he may be tortured to death. He simply accepts it, takes it as a given even. All he does in reaction is placidly ask if he can see Lacie one more time before they kill him.

That’s good enough for him when it wouldn’t be for any other person.  
The man is a testament to how one person’s inconsequential moment can be another’s most cherished, and it’s not a good thing.

Oswald feels fleeting vindication in his prior reservations, despite neglecting to act on them.

It’s no matter, though, it can be corrected easily. Except, then, Lacie reappears wearing an earring that matches Jack Vesallius’s. She proceeds to tug him out of the room like he’s her personal guest rather than a stranger who lied and schemed his way to a fleeting moment at her side.

Glen, for his part, and regardless of his earlier scolding, seems to find Jack Vessalius and all he is fascinating instead of worrisome.

Against everyone’s better judgment, Glen lets the incident go without reprimand. On top of that, he personally invites Jack Vessalius to come by the mansion again, whenever he’d like.

There’s definitely better entertainment out there, and Oswald can’t help but feel spited.

*

On his first welcomed yet uninvited visit to the mansion a mere two days after the incident, Jack Vessalius seeks out Oswald to apologize for throwing whiskey in his face.

“I really wasn’t thinking at all,” he says, embarrassment renewed at the memory and leaving a pink tinge on his bowed face. “It won’t happen again.”

Oswald doesn’t bother telling him it only happened in the first place because he failed to anticipate it. Jack gave no indication or tell that he was about to move, let alone throw a drink at him. It was as if the intention didn’t exist until after the action started.

From now on he’ll make a point to be more alert in his presence.

“It’s no matter.”

Jack peeks up at him with a doubtful frown but doesn’t contest it.

He wonders if this is at Lacie’s insistence, but dismisses the thought. While Oswald finds this surprising from Jack, it would be more surprising if it were at his sister’s behest. She probably found it as amusing as Glen.

It’s just that this didn’t strike him as something Jack would feel a need to apologize for. While Oswald does not understand him, it’s clear Jack felt provoked in the moment. So, perhaps to him, the apology should be coming from Oswald instead.

Perhaps he does owe him an apology. Lacie and Glen are always telling him his speech is too straightforward and without forethought.

“Did I offend you?” Oswald asks without taking the time to think better of it, his curiosity pushing the words out before he can catch them.

“Ah? No. It’s…” The pink glows into red and Jack shakes his head. With a gentle smile that takes his expression from abashed to playful he asks, “Has anyone ever told you that you have a very intense gaze?”

Oswald blinks. “Yes.”

Jack spreads his arms like everything has been explained.

If his gaze alone is that big an issue, Oswald would have had many more drinks thrown in his face by now. As it stands, Jack is the only one to hold that dubious honor.

Oswald finds it more likely Jack is allowing him to come to his own conclusions so he doesn’t have to explain anything.

“It was what I said, wasn’t it? That was the issue.”

Jack’s smile drops, but he doesn’t seem put out at revisiting the subject. “There is that, but really. It’s those eyes! It’s like they’re carving into me.” He shudders, and Oswald can’t tell if it’s for theatrics or if he’s genuinely disturbed. He can’t tell if his words are lies or truth.

Oswald should be able to tell, and simply because he can’t, it occurs to him to ask.

He won’t, though, that’s far too revealing.

Instead, Oswald says, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Jack’s face goes blank in surprise, and then a warm smile spreads across it. “You are a considerate big brother, aren’t you.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Huh?” Jack’s head tilts to the side, and in the thirty seconds it takes for him to recognize what Oswald means, Oswald experiences the same and looks away.

Jack Vessalius laughs. 

Maybe at Oswald. 

Maybe at the idea of referring to Oswald that way. 

Maybe at himself for the misunderstanding he caused.

Just like everything else about him, Jack’s amusement is equally impossible to discern.

*

Despite natural assumption and appearances, Jack Vessalius is not courting Lacie.

That’s what he claims, anyway, when a servant catches him alone in the halls one day and presses the matter.

Jack laughs it off like any and all suspicion towards him is unfounded and says, “I’m not doing anything of the sort. I’m content simply being by Lacie’s side.”

It’s a statement inherently brimming with fear of rejection, but Jack’s tone isn’t weighed down by it. If anything, he’s overflowing with gratitude to have that much. By her side, not even occupying the space, but distanced from it. Like nothing closer exists beyond that. Not for him, at least.

Oswald’s reading too much into it, like he always seems to do when the topic is Jack Vessalius.

The servant expresses doubt, and mentions Lacie’s obvious fondness for him, so with that in mind, it’s not as if it’s completely unreasonable or unattainable.

And the servant is right to an extent. It’s not unreasonable, but it’s not something to encourage or entertain when Lacie won’t be here in a few short months.

Oswald can’t see the expression from the distance he’s at, but Jack’s silence stretches too long before he finally speaks. “It’s not like that. I don’t need anything like that. If I can be near her, hear her voice, that’s more than enough.”

The servant asks, “What will you do if she’s not here?”

“Uh? Come back another day, I guess.”

“What if she’s never here?”

Too close. Too close, but Jack doesn’t have enough information to understand. His mind jumps to Glen’s words, about her penchant for running off, even though she last did so over a year ago. “I’d wait for her to come back.”

That’s when the servant catches sight of Oswald and hurries off before they can be reprimanded. Not that Oswald would right now. Not when Jack is on the premises.

Jack is puzzled by the servant’s exit, but his expression brightens when he sees Oswald. That’s how it’s been recently. Increasing excitement when presented with Oswald’s company. There’s been no cause for change beyond Jack’s seeming desire for it.

It’s… comfortable, even if Oswald doesn’t understand it.

“Why aren’t you with Lacie?”

Jack is too pleased by the assumption considering he’s established no other possible reason for visiting. He appears to like Oswald, but not enough to be the reason he visits. For Jack, the world begins and ends with Lacie, and perhaps Oswald takes shape simply because he’s her brother.

Oswald is staring. He averts his gaze and Jack’s steady smile alters in a way too minute to be identified.

“I was,” Jack says. “But she has a headache and wanted some time to rest.”

“And what will you do now?”

Jack hums as he thinks that over. Then, he smiles at Oswald once more. “I guess I can spend some time with you and see if Lacie feels better later. If that’s okay with you.”

“I suppose.”

Jack tilts his head. “I can find something else to do, too. If you’re busy.”

The idea of Jack wandering about without supervision is disaster waiting to happen, especially if servants are growing curious about him. Unfortunately, Oswald is the only one suited to chaperone him outside of Lacie.

“No,” Oswald says, “I don’t mind.”

He walks away, knowing Jack will follow.

*

Oswald finds that despite being unnerved by Jack he doesn’t dislike him.

Jack is well read and well spoken, and has led a peculiar life that’s left him with traumas he speaks of as if they have nothing to do with him. All his stories are told in a fantastical, enthralling way, like they are being told secondhand with embellishments aplenty. He talks about himself like he’s a background character in his own story.

It’s telling in an abstract way, but somehow the only thing Oswald takes from it is that Jack is an open book with an ornate cover and blank pages. As he speaks he fills them in, and they are ever changing.

A stretch of water too silent and too still, but it beckons him closer while warning him away.

An unoccupied space that shouldn’t exist but does.

Jack Vessalius, here and nowhere.

Nothing.

Jack, whom Oswald is increasingly thinking of as a friend. Only after he comes to this conclusion does he realize friendship is not something he’s experienced before. Oswald has no idea what one might look like or what to do with it, but he knows he likes it. Spending time with Jack is like composing music.

When he retrieves him at the edge of the property their conversations stretch longer and Oswald’s words become less monosyllabic.

If Jack leaves without bidding him farewell he feels disappointed.

He looks forward to the times when Lacie or Jack will invite him along to their plans, which are often surprisingly silent and mundane. Lacie carries on with her activities while Jack engages on the fringes or reads or sits peacefully, soaking in her presence like it’s the sun

He speaks when spoken to, but seems keen to ignore anyone who isn’t Lacie or Oswald.

The same goes for Oswald.

*

Lacie is gone, and the moment she is, Jack is gone, too.

Jack accepts Oswald’s words like he accepts everything else. Though, this time there is a pause where he has to process the information. He asks Oswald to repeat himself.

Oswald watches unblinking, ready for anything. He thinks of Jack embracing Lacie and damn the consequences, of Jack throwing alcohol in his face without thought, of Jack stepping off a roof for the chance to give Lacie a bit of happiness.

What Oswald receives is less than nothing.

Understanding flashes through Jack’s eyes but his face doesn’t twitch. There is no anger, no anguish, no disbelief. No tears. No shaking. Unadulterated apathy, but only after being met with it does Oswald realize it’s a typical response for Jack.

Jack doesn’t see him or react as Oswald pulls his hand forward so he can press Lacie’s earring to his palm. That’s the real confirmation, but Jack still does nothing, doesn’t even look down. He just curls his fist around it and stares ahead.

Oswald leaves him there to grieve, however he needs to do it.

Oswald has duties to tend to, anyway, now that he’s Glen.

He’s already resigned to not seeing Jack again, whether because Lacie is no longer here or because he can’t forgive Oswald for what he’s done.

There’s something almost reassuring in this. It’s a very normal, very human response to losing a loved one. It’s tangible like Jack never is, and for that reason Oswald will gladly take all the blame Jack has to give. He deserves Jack’s absence, just like he deserves Alice.

Except. Jack doesn’t blame him and doesn’t hate him and only meets him with the same inscrutable smile, like nothing has changed.

When he reappears, Oswald first thinks he has denied what happened so thoroughly he’s forgotten, but for once Oswald can’t bring himself to speak plainly.

So he talks around it, and expresses surprise that Jack is still alive.

Jack had all but proclaimed he couldn’t live without Lacie.

Most of the servants have assumed that’s why he hasn’t been around.

Oswald couldn’t help but think so as well. It’s difficult for him to conceptualize Jack outside of Lacie, somehow, even with him standing right there.

Outright chipper, what Jack tells Oswald is, “I’m not despairing. Without hope, there is no despair.”

The words aren’t figurative, but a confession of character. That, however, is not something Oswald will realize until much, much later.

Life goes on just as it had before. 

Jack visits. He spends time with Alice, but Oswald always finds out about it after the fact.

Jack visits. He always knows where to find Oswald, but his pleasure at being sought out is nullified every time Jack calls him “Glen”.

Jack visits.

They spend time together. Only this time Lacie is nowhere, and that makes all the difference.


End file.
